ame as happy and active as a
kitten. The mother had kept him with her every minute, and when her work
had been done, which was seldom, was satisfied to rock him and listen to
his baby chatter.

Elizabeth had not been angry in the whole six months, neither had she been
glad. She never vexed John by asking to be taken places. Gladly would he
have taken her, if by so doing he could have brought back her old
enthusiasm and girlish glee, for Elizabeth had been the life of the
household, and things had settled into a dead monotony that made of their
home but a house since Susan Hornby's death. Sometimes, vexed by her
passive acceptation of whatever came, John would throw out stinging
observations about women who made their husbands turn to others for their
society, and then be left in an uncomfortable situation by the fact that
he had aroused neither anger nor annoyance, for Elizabeth would inquire in
her lifeless tones what he wished her to do which was left undone. Puzzled
by her real meekness of spirit, the man was compelled to admit that she
made no vexatious demands upon him and that she laboured unceasingly to
keep the soulless home in order. One of the strange and contradictory
things in the situation was that John Hunter did not turn to the mother
whom he had ever been ready to exalt for consolation in this time of
trouble; the demand his feelings made was for the companionship which
while it was his he had not desired. The revelation of the months showed
him what he had lost. Mrs. Hunter was as much in the dark about the real
cause of Elizabeth's changed condition as was John.

"The ride to Mr. Hornby's had something to do with it," she said dubiously
when talking the matter over with her son after the baby began to get well
and Elizabeth showed no improvement in a mental way.

"It comes from that ride in the hot sun. You see it made the baby sick
too; but it ain't any use to say so to her," John replied, but in spite of
the firmness of his tone there was a puzzled look on his face and the last
word dragged with indecision.

"She was very fond of Mrs. Hornby, too, and that may have had something to
do with it," Mrs. Hunter observed.

"Ye-e-s-s-s!" John replied. "But she couldn't care for that kind of people
enough to make herself sick about them," he said more firmly.

Mrs. Hunter considered slowly for some moments.

"I guess you're right," she said at last. "She seemed to be attached to
them, but she don't as